As I sit beside that window sill, on my decrepit wooden chair,
A farce hurries my head, a vague dream is present there!
Senses now diverted, my head is in a stir,
I ache for an objective, but it yet remains a blur.
Days return to nights and these nights don’t seem to conclude,
Remaining awake for hours, figuring out the very things I convolute.
While standing gaily on this crossroad, staring past a perceived horizon,
Eventually the dream is born, manifesting as rays of a dawn’s sun.
I often catch myself lost, daydreaming about a prospective day,
Where I have achieved my grandiose dream, but suddenly it’s a may!
The opportune day may arrive, but it may not as well,
“I can’t just keep dreaming about this!”, I shout, then a latent voice comes to tell.
Be it my inner monologue, or my own officious conscience,
Some impetus captivates my faculties, bringing an end to this abeyance.
A bellicose vigour rushes in my veins; a desire to work enables,
Scrambling to my feet, I begin to mould my dream and break this hiatus.
Written by Yoihen Elangbam for MTTN
Edited by Advaith Gurunath for MTTN
Featured Image by splice.com
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.